The Script for My Requiem
by noga999
Summary: Arthur wakes in the midst of the Dark Ages to find Camelot and everyone he ever loved to be lost. All but one. But the call to arms of his destiny is stronger than grief, stronger than even death itself: the call to find the Holy Grail. Slow burn Merthur.
1. A Hundred Years

Chap. 1

A King Returns

 _So long sleep well my friend  
Take him back to Avalon  
I will wait and guard  
The future king's crown_

 _Blind Guardian, "A Past and Future Secret"_

The water was pressing down him from all directions, filling him, his mouth, his ears, his eyes. He flexed his frozen fingers and toes – he was holding the hilt of his sword in one hand, unable to move. He felt something pulling him forcefully upward, towards the flickering light above. At first, he couldn't recall how he got there, or even what was his name. Until he did.

It was hell. He was drowning, suffocating, dying alive. He started fighting the water around him blindly, panicked, when he was yanked upward by the same force that was calling him to rise.

He broke the surface of the water, sucking the cold air with thirst. The sun was unbelievably bright, and his armor was weighing him down, back into the black depths. With the help of the mysterious force, that was now pulling him through the water, he pedaled desperately until he reached the rocky shore.

He collapsed on the slick pebbles, sword in hand, catching his breath. Now he could see that he was lying on the shore of a lake – had he been here before? – looking over an emerald green island. It was a beautiful sight… one that made him wonder how he got there.

What was the last thing he remembered? Arthur pushed his wet blond hair out of his eyes with a gloved hand. He remembered the battle at Camelan. Yes, he had been injured, and Merlin was going to take him somewhere to heal… Merlin, who had turned out to be a sorcerer…

But something wasn't right. Merlin's magic must have worked – he felt no pain – but something still felt wrong. He couldn't remember getting there. The last thing he remembered was Merlin, holding him. He was sure it was the end, that he wasn't going to make it. But here he was.

"Arthur."

A familiar voice startled him out of his dark thoughts.

"Merlin," Arthur rasped in relief, realizing that his manservant was standing right behind him all that time. Had he been controlling the force that brought him back to shore? It didn't really matter either way as a wave of relief washed over him at the sight of his old friend.

Merlin helped him up from the rocky ground, and then, without warning, embraced the king tightly. Arthur warped his steel-clad arm around his servant with a sense of relief, and a whisper rose from the depths of his memory, _"Stay with me…"_

He stepped away from the embrace, unfazed, and for the first time realized that Merlin looked different. He was wearing an old, deep blue clock over his simple clothes, and his dark hair hung in curls over his forehead, much longer than Arthur had remembered it to be. But the strangest thing that seemed to change were Merlin's eyes; they were forlorn, shielded, not as bright and full of wonder as they had always been.

"How do you feel?" Merlin asked. At least his voice and his cheeky grin were the same as always.

"Alright, I think," Arthur replayed uncertainly, blinking in the blinding sun. "I'm starving."

"I thought you might be," Merlin said cheerfully, moving toward a small fire that Arthur hadn't noticed before, to check on a bubbling stew pot. Arthur took a seat on a nearby rock, still feeling confused. Merlin was humming as he prepared the stew. It felt so surreal.

"Merlin, what happened?" Arthur finally broke the silence, "How did I get in the water?"

"I brought you here," Merlin said, passing him a bowl of steaming stew. "To heal. Seems it worked." He appeared giddy and devastated at the same time.

"Seems it did," Arthur echoed, feeling his wound. Or it least, the place where the wound used to be; the pain had disappeared, as if he had never been wounded at all. Still, something wasn't right.

"How long had I been in there?" He asked his servant, "And where did you get these clothes from?"

Merlin looked slightly terrified at the question, looking at his clothes as if he was seeing them for the first time. He seemed to be thinking what to say.

"Merlin!" Arthur was losing patience at his servant's strange behavior.

"Arthur," Merlin replayed evenly. He looked at Arthur strangely for a moment, then looked away and added, "It's difficult to say…"

A sense of dread came over Arthur, and he said nothing. When Merlin finally spoke, it was in a calm, almost distant tone.

"I failed," He said, "Avalon was so close, but… You couldn't go on anymore. You died, Arthur."

Arthur let out a forced laugh. Merlin wasn't laughing.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin," Arthur chided, falling back to the comfort of their banters. "Do I look dead to you?"

"No," Merlin said meekly. "You came back."

"From the dead?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. Had Merlin lost his mind completely? He realized that his servant's powers were greater than he had ever imagined, but raising the dead seemed like a far reach.

Merlin said nothing, steering the stew needlessly. His hair had grown longer, Arthur was sure of it.

"How long had I been in the lake?" He asked again, dreading the answer.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin said with heavy sadness. His blue eyes were bleeding red in the light of the small fire. "It has been a hundred years since you died."


	2. Strangers on The Road

Chap. 2

Strangers on The Road

" _Hallowed be the fatherland  
God he knows  
How long I'd been away  
From here I did start for a search so  
Full of decease…"_

 _Blind Guardian, "The Script for My Requiem"_

Arthur made his way through the woods in a determined step. From behind he could hear Merlin calling him to stop and listen as he was struggling to keep up. Arthur wasn't feeling tired at the slightest, as if his limbs were newly forged, or – as if he had been taking a hundred- years long nap like Merlin so stupidly suggested.

"Where are you going?" Merlin called to him.

"Where do you think? Back to Camelot," Arthur replayed, not slowing down. He had to get back home, to prove to Merlin and to himself that it had been only a few days since the battle at Camelann. Gwen was probably worried sick.

As he contemplated his wife, Arthur came across a road in the forest. He halted. He knew this land like the back of his hand, and he was certain there was never a road going through that part of the forest.

"Arthur – " Merlin started saying as he caught up with him on the road, but Arthur interrupted him.

"You are in an exceptionally good shape for a hundred- year- old man," he mocked his friend bitterly.

"Thank you, I – wait, are you mocking me?"

"Sharp as always, Merlin," Arthur said, starting down the road.

"Arthur, you have to believe me," Merlin almost begged, keeping close by his side. "Camelot… It doesn't exist anymore…"

"Shut up."

"Please, there's nobody there. Gaius, Gwen, the Knights, they're all – "

"I said, shut up!" Arthur raised his voice at his servant, turning around sharply with his hand on the hilt of his sword. He had half a mind to draw the golden sword and force Merlin to take back his lies at sword- point.

But he couldn't do it. Although Merlin still looked like his boyish self, Arthur couldn't ignore the change in his eyes. They reveled the truth of Merlin's soul – the truth that Arthur was refusing to accept – that a century had gone by while Arthur was sleeping in the heart of the lake.

"This doesn't make any sense," he argued, feeling ice forming over his insides at the notion that what Merlin was saying was true. "If it had been a hundred years, how is it that _you_ look the same?"

"I don't know," Merlin replayed, looking almost ashamed. "I don't know exactly why I don't age like other people do, I just don't. I didn't ask to be like this."

Arthur wanted to lash out at him, blame him for something, but he felt as if all his renewed power had seeped out of him. Suddenly feeling numb, he dropped to the ground, leaning against the base of a nearby tree.

His cloths were still soaked from his dip in the lake, and he would have frozen if not for the warm rays of sun that filtered through the branches. Long, succulent blades of grass grew among the trees, and bees were visiting the scattered flowers that bloomed on the forest floor – it was spring. The last Arthur remembered, it had been the beginning of winter, the cold winds mocking him as he waited for death…

Merlin knelt and sat down beside him, resting a slender hand on his armored shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"Why?" Arthur managed to choke out. "Why did this happen to me? Why didn't I die?"

He had already lost so much, his mother, his father, Elyan, Lancelot… and now Gwen, Leon, Percival, Gwaine, even the treacherous Mordred – they were all dead as well. Except for Merlin, he was all alone in the world.

This feeling of suffocating isolation – this was hell.

"You did die," Merlin explained. "You died in my arms… But according to the prophecy, the Once and Future King – that's you – will return when the land of Alboin is at its darkest hour."

"What prophecy?"

"The one that said that you were destined to be the greatest king that ever lived."

"Oh, that prophecy," Arthur chided bitterly. Merlin was talking as if he was supposed to know all that already.

"Sorry," Merlin said meekly. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that I never had the chance to tell you about your destiny. I played this moment in my head so many times – after all these years it's difficult to separate memories from dreams."

Arthur was willing to dive into Merlin's stories – everything to not think about the void in his heart – when a new distraction came in the form of the sound of horses galloping.

Merlin got up, saying, "We should clear the road."

Even as he was saying these words he stumbled over a twisted root, meeting the ground face-first. Arthur couldn't hold back a loud laugh.

"This wasn't part of the servant act, Merlin, you are actually this clumsy? How could you ever except me to believe you had magic?"

"Quiet, they're coming," Merlin whispered as he got off the ground. After a moment a large group of riders appeared down the road, approaching the former king and the sorcerer with speed.

The group was led by three knights, riding at the head of an entourage of servants and squires. The knights were wearing rich cloaks over orient suits of armor, and even their horses where adorned with jewels and precious metals. Arthur couldn't help but think they were the most flamboyant knights he had ever seen. The knights of Camelot never had to display their riches in this way – the red cloak and the golden dragon were all they needed to gain the people's respect.

"How met, travelers?" One of the knights, a flax haired man wearing a cloak of deep blue velvet, called as the riders came to a halt. "What news do you bring from the roads? I hear dark times are upon this part of the land."

"Greetings, noble knights," Merlin said smoothly, "No news, I'm afraid. Seems that the sun has driven out the darkness."

"What is your business here?" Another knight, the one wearing a snow-white cloak adorned with a red cross, demanded in a dark, suspicious voice. His black eyes inspected Arthur's soaked crimson cloak and the golden hilt of his sword, assessing his worth. "These are ill times for a nobleman to be traveling alone, with no horse or provisions."

Arthur opened his mouth to inform the rider that he was speaking to the King of Camelot, and that whatever he was implying about his disposition he should keep to himself, but Merlin spoke before he could say anything.

"My master prefers to travel lightly."

"Does he?" the knight questioned, unconvinced. "If so, why does your master not speak?"

"He cannot," Merlin once again spoke before Arthur could utter a word. "My master has taken upon himself a holy vow of silence and penury, to keep until he has completed his quest."

Arthur bit back his words and resisted the urge to smack Merlin on the back of his head for putting him in this situation where he had no choice but to keep his mouth shut.

"Than your master is indeed a noble knight," the rider with the blue cloak, who appeared younger and more pleasant than his companions, said with appreciation. "What is the quest?"

"To win the Cadbury tournament, and the graces of the Lord of Somerset."

The knight with the white cloak laughed mockingly. "A holy quest indeed. Well, knave, you may inform your silent master that he may remain quiet for a while, for I had already won the grace of God in the Holy Land, and I shall be the one to win the tournament."

Arthur's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, ready to teach the knight a lesson about courtesy and modesty. To his surprise, Merlin gave the knight a slight bow.

"Your achievements are impressive, Sire. The Holy Land may hold much glory, but there is also glory to be found in this land."

"You are speaking of Lord Holland's search for the Holy Grail," the knight with the blue cloak said with awe. "That is the reason your master wishes to win the Lord's graces – so he would allow him to join the search."

"If the Holy Grail does exist," the white cloaked knight said, "Its place is in the Holy Land, not here among the unbelievers."

"Perhaps," Merlin answered mysteriously. "However, there are those who believe that the Grail is here among us, and that the person who holds it would gain not only power over life and death, but the right to rule the whole of Albion, now and forever. The man who would find the Grail is the King That Was Promised."

"You speak treason, servant."

The speaker was the third knight, the one who kept silent until that moment. He was a solemn looking man, dressed all in black, with a chain of silver stars adorning his breast. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and his appearance was thoughtful and dark, unreadable. Arthur suspected him immediately.

"Forgive me for my foolishness," Merlin said calmly, lowering his head. Only Arthur could notice his slight smile. "In addition to my position as a manservant, I am also my master's personal jester."

"Fitting," said the white knight with contempt. However, the black knight didn't seem convinced, still watching Merlin with a dark look.

"A jester's foolery can be forgiven," the blue knight said to appease his companions and prevent a fight from breaking out. "Let us make haste, my friends, it will be dark soon."

To Arthur he said, "I look forward to meeting you on the field, Sir Knight."

The knights rode on with their entourage, leaving Arthur and Merlin standing by the side of the road.

"What was that about?" Arthur asked Merlin as soon as they were out of earshot. "Who were they? And what is that Grail you spoke of?"

"Norman knights, by the looks of it," Merlin answered, following the road the knights took. "They came about fifty years ago and conquered most of this land, which by that time had been in the hands of the Saxons – except for Camelot, of course. As you have seen, they tend to be quite full of themselves."

Merlin chatted on about Norman-Saxon politics, but Arthur wasn't listening. All he could think about were the halls of Camelot being ransacked by invaders, its people slaughtered.

Maybe Merlin had developed the power to read minds, because after one look at Arthur he said, "When the Normans first came I helped Gwen escape Camelot. She lived her remaining years peacefully in the south. She never remarried, you know, never had children. Her heart had always belonged to you."

Arthur said nothing. The notion that Gwen had never stopped loving him was a small comfort in the shadow of the crushing grief he felt at losing her.

"It gets better," Merlin told him softly. "With time, it gets better."

Arthur didn't know if it was true. He only knew that right now, the pain felt like it will never end, weighing down on his shoulders like a boulder. There was so much he needed to know about the faith of Camelot, about everything that had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He felt crushed.

"Where are you taking me?" he finally managed to ask as Merlin left the road and started making his way through the trees.

"I live not far from here," Merlin replayed. "We will be taking a shortcut. I don't like the idea of meeting these knights again."

As the sun began to disappear and the shadows between the trees grew longer, Arthur and Merlin came upon a small abbey with a slanted roof covered with moss.

Merlin stopped on his tracks. Arthur tried asking him what was wrong, but Merlin shushed him, his eyes fixed on the lone abbey. Arthur looked at it, but there was nothing there. Too late he realized that the birds had stopped singing, and that the darkening woods were silent as a grave.

"Come on, Merlin," he said loudly.

Something shot out of the abbey door with a hellish roar. Arthur drew his sword. He wasn't quick enough – The thing, something dark and huge – was already in front of them – when it was pushed back forcefully. Next to Arthur, Merlin was speaking words in a language he didn't understand, his eyes glowing bright gold.

The creature roared and made a second attempt at and attack. It was so strange and horrifying that Arthur couldn't even make out what it was, only that it had four sturdy limbs, horns and a face of a man, a monster out of this world. Merlin raised his hand again, speaking the magic words in a powerful, commanding voice, and an invisible force cut through the grass and knocked the creature back. It disintegrated into a thick black smoke that moved around as if it had a mind of its own, slowly reforming the creature's form.

"Run!" Merlin shouted.

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. They ran through the woods, the demon's roar following them. The creature – or what seemed to be a part of it – appeared in front of them in a could of smoke. Arthur slashed it with his sword, causing a golden light to shimmer in the air as the smoke was cut in half with a scream of pain. But it wasn't enough to defeat the beast, only to slow it down as the black smoke started reforming again.

They ran on, when suddenly Merlin came to a stop on an edge of a sharp incline in the forest floor.

"Go!" he shouted at Arthur. "I'll keep it busy!"

"Hilarious, Merlin," Arthur called back, slashing at a piece of smoke that caught up with them. "You wouldn't last a minute without me."

Even at the face of the horror that was after them Merlin smiled at him. Arthur didn't really know the extant of Merlin's powers, but he knew that he didn't need Arthur to protect him.

The beast roared with rage behind them, approaching with diabolic speed.

"She will find you," Merlin said, and his eyes glowed golden again as he effortlessly sent Arthur rolling down the incline.


End file.
